No triumphal march: fragments, to reconcile

(Jn 6:51-58)

The Eucharistic theme conveys a fundamental message, about the quality of Life of the Eternal that we can already experience here and now.

The Life of the Eternal is not the effect of external "belief" in Jesus. Belief that would stop us, and lose 'contact'.

Instead, it becomes reciprocal, it evolves, it recovers us, as in a natural energy.

Here is the raw Food, and Drink: 'chew it' and 'crush it', 'drink it' and 'swill it' even [verbs used in the Greek text].

Total assimilation, which is converted into an experience - Gift from Person to Person.

The Food to be nourished on is not a seal; rather, a perennial, convoking motion.

Not a logical doctrine, compassed and consenting, but Word-event that fully engages.

And his story - with all its implications of persecution suffered, and harshness, as well as denunciation activities.

[This is an aspect that is in tune with the so-called inspired prayer "in the Name of Jesus", i.e. a prayer imbued with the dramatic bearing and burden of his historical vicissitude; which neither spiritualises nor anaesthetises us at all, because it contrasts critical witnesses with installed situations].

For this reason, here is the Person of Christ - in his true and full human reality, offered and broken; in his authentic teaching and vicissitude as the paschal lamb.

Among wolves that shredded him.

He is the abrupt vessel through which the Life of the Eternal is given and preserved.

In this sense, the Eucharist received in naked Faith is the real (not symbolic) Presence of the Risen One.

The harshness of the vocabulary used - not very intimate - scratches the life of believers with concrete effects in the first person, not automatic or magical.

Faith emphasises the paradigmatic nuptiality "Do you want to unite your life to mine?": it is a privileged place - on which we feed and drink even in its very harshness - to make it explicit.

It is the stream of life from the Father through the Son, assimilated in us: not devotion.

"To 'have Life' is to be united with Jesus - but not in a sweet, sentimental, or dazzling way.

We are fertilised and sent, made One with the 'Son of Man' [the divine measure for each of us] in the Covenant of happenings.

Relationship, motive, vehicle, unifying movement, anticipation, unfolding the Communion between Father and Son - without stillness or pause.

The Covenant of a new kingdom is life in God: a charge that is not exhausted, and ushers us into the paradoxical and wounded glory of the community of sons.

The Eucharist is a point of reference for the Church, sometimes lost in the hypnosis of external events.

Assembly that recognises itself; it defines what it is called to be. And it must not find its perennial bonds elsewhere.

Some passages from John are an interesting historical testimony to the catechesis of the end of the first century in the communities of Asia Minor.

Fraternities in search of ancestral motivations, of the most ancient energies, that would rise above the whirlwinds of persecution and not alter consciousness in Christ.

Instruction was configured in short questions and answers, formulated to welcome pagans, stem defections, deepen themes.

Arguments and thrusts that distinguished the living Faith from a religiosity of the past and its perfectionist or commemorative schemes.

Styles that it was opportune to lay down, to satiate the hunger and thirst for fullness - conquering freedom, joy, and a more complete, total, indestructible being.

With polemical rawness, Jesus insists on presenting himself as the Lamb of the true Easter.

A Lamb that roughly crushed, shredded, shredded, and totally absorbed, could free from bondage, and give the joy of ecstasy.

In doing so, he introduced his own into angular, but true trajectories - finally re-knotted, both to activate the authentic realisation of the individual, and the quality of coexistence.

His proposal passed through an impertinent transgression of purism, legalism, and intimist, devout culture in general.

In that sphere, taking blood, considered the seat of life, was absolutely forbidden.

To make the story of the total Christ - so far removed from controlled thought - one's own was to mark contestation.

It was rejection of symbols, norms, customs or fashions. There would be no alternative, no non-offensive compromise.

Not only: it was also necessary to change the minds of those who imagined that they could align themselves (individually or as a group) with the archaic idea of a powerful, victorious, and guarantor Messiah.

Perhaps adaptable, flexible; available for any kind of Jesus-Empire alliance, which already enchanted some.

In short, other external, diluted, conditioning-centred 'mannequins' or affective dependencies could not even be pale figures of the Living Food.

The Communion of life with the concrete Person of the Lord is only that of the Son with the Father.By cultivating it, we dream of it and keep it there, together with our own affairs - so that they may be nourished by that same Spirit.

By allowing the motivations and the world of images connected with the Lord's Supper to evolve, we allow ourselves to be led by the efficacious Sign.

It will guide and even lead precisely where we need to go.

By surrendering to such a memorial that gives intimate impetus, something will happen - for the soul to take the field.

Waiting until we are ready, we will learn to understand the fruitfulness and wisdom of the broken Gift-and-Response that incessantly gives birth to other stages, still activating different, perhaps unknown, resources.

Here it is the Judgment of the wounded Crucified One that spreads authentic 'life' even inclemently; without admirable attunements all around.

This by taking our flesh and blood [it even involves the body and humours] that assimilates to Him the discarded, the outcasts of earthly thrones, and opportunist entanglements.

This is shocking to the vulgar mentality outside. World of convictions that raises defences and seeks approval, recognition, achievements; mirages of success, things everyone wants.

Diminishment that does not attract enthusiastic approval, but rather repulses the normal expectations of the usual choruses of glory - of symphonies of acclamation for swirling, available, but mitigating success.

Flesh and Blood: thrown into the grooves of history.

Involved without dampening the Spirit; personally and intimately. One Body, assimilated into Him and His story.

First fruits of no triumphal march: we too become food, crumbs and fragments, to reconcile.

Otherwise the time of the Promises cannot be fulfilled.

To internalise and live the message:

What understanding do you show by taking the Food and Drink of Life? All is calm?

How do you see fit to combine and deepen Faith in the Real Presence of the Risen One with the harshness of life?

Today we read these words of Jesus in the Gospel: "I am the living bread which came down from heaven" (Jn 6: 51).
One cannot but be struck by this parallel that rotates around the symbol of "Heaven": Mary was "taken up" to the very place from which her Son had "come down". Of course, this language, which is biblical, expresses in figurative terms something that never completely coincides with the world of our own concepts and images. But let us pause for a moment to think! Jesus presents himself as the "living bread", that is, the food which contains the life of God itself which it can communicate to those who eat it, the true nourishment that gives life, which is really and deeply nourishing. Jesus says: "if any one eats of this bread, he will live for ever; and the bread which I shall give for the life of the world is my flesh" (Jn 6: 51). Well, from whom did the Son of God take his "flesh", his actual, earthly humanity? He took it from the Virgin Mary. In order to enter our mortal condition, God took from her a human body. In turn, at the end of her earthly life, the Virgin's body was taken up into Heaven by God and brought to enter the heavenly condition. It is a sort of exchange in which God always takes the full initiative but, in a certain sense, as we have seen on other occasions, he also needs Mary, her "yes" as a creature, her very flesh, her actual existence, in order to prepare the matter for his sacrifice: the Body and the Blood, to offer them on the Cross as a means of eternal life and, in the sacrament of the Eucharist, as spiritual food and drink.

Dear brothers and sisters, what happened in Mary also applies in ways that are different yet real to every man and to every woman because God asks each one of us to welcome him, to put at his disposal our heart and our body, our entire existence, our flesh the Bible says so that he may dwell in the world. He calls us to be united with him in the sacrament of the Eucharist, Bread broken for the life of the world, to form together the Church, his Body in history. And if we say "yes", like Mary, indeed to the extent of our "yes", this mysterious exchange is also brought about for us and in us. We are taken up into the divinity of the One who took on our humanity. The Eucharist is the means, the instrument of this reciprocal transformation which always has God as its goal, and as the main actor. He is the Head and we are the limbs, he is the Vine and we the branches. Whoever eats of this Bread and lives in communion with Jesus, letting himself be transformed by him and in him, is saved from eternal death: naturally he dies like everyone and also shares in the mystery of Christ's Passion and Crucifixion, but he is no longer a slave to death and will rise on the Last Day to enjoy the eternal celebration together with Mary and with all the Saints.

This mystery, this celebration of God, begins here below: it is the mystery of faith, hope and love that is celebrated in life and in the liturgy, especially that of the Eucharist, and is expressed in fraternal communion and in service for our neighbour. Let us pray the Blessed Virgin to help us always to nourish ourselves faithfully with the Bread of eternal life, so that, already on this earth, we may experience the joy of Heaven.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 16 August 2009]

I am the, living bread" (Jn 6, 51). In the desert the Apostles say to Jesus: "Dismiss the crowd" (cf. Lk 9, 12). This crowd was following the Master, listening to his words about the Kingdom of God; but the night and the hour of supper were approaching. The crowd stood there in silence and expectation. Once before in the wilderness, when bread had come short, the children of Israel had rebelled against Moses. They had then received the food, which fell every morning on the camp, and had called it "manna". Thus the people, coming from the land of Egypt, had been able to continue their journey from the region of slavery to the promised land. Now Jesus says to the Apostles: "Give them something to eat yourselves" (Lk 9:13), and since they cannot find any solution, Christ multiplies the loaves: he blesses what little they have, breaks it and gives it to the disciples; and these, in turn, to the people. "They all ate and were filled".

2. The multiplication of the loaves in the desert is a proclamation, as was the manna The crowds follow Jesus when they experience his power over food and human hunger. They are even ready to proclaim him king. Does not the Psalm of David speak of the Messiah's rule and the day of his triumph? "To you the principality," it says, "on the day of your might" (cf. Ps 110:3). At the same time, the same Psalm calls the royal Messiah a Priest: He is a Priest forever in the manner of Melchizedek (cf. Ps 110:4). Melchizedek was king and at the same time Priest of the Most High God. Unlike the Priests of the Old Covenant, he offered to God not the blood of immolated animals, but bread and wine.

3. The multiplication of the loaves in the desert is, therefore, a prophetic message: Christ knows that He Himself will one day fulfil the prophecy contained in the sacrifice of Melchizedek. As Priest of the New Covenant - of the Eternal Covenant - Jesus will enter the eternal sanctuary, having accomplished the work of the Redemption of the world through His own blood. To the Apostles in the Upper Room he will in essence once again give the same command: "Feed him yourselves! - Do this in memory of me!" There are different categories of hunger, which torment the great human family. There has been the hunger that has turned entire cities and towns into graveyards. There has been the hunger of extermination camps, produced by totalitarian systems. In various parts of the globe, there is still the hunger of the third and 'fourth' world: there, men, mothers and children, adults and the elderly die of hunger. The hunger of the human organism is terrible, the hunger that exterminates. But there is also the hunger of the soul, of the spirit. The human soul does not die on the paths of present history. The death of the human soul has another character: it takes on the dimension of eternity. It is the "second death" (Rev 20:14). By multiplying the loaves for the hungry, Christ placed the prophetic sign of the existence of another Bread: "I am the living bread, which came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever" (Jn 6:51).

4. Here is the great mystery of faith. The same people for whom Christ multiplied the loaves, those who "ate and were filled" (Lk 9:17), were, however, unable to believe his words when he spoke of the food that is his Flesh, and the drink that is his Blood. Because of this, the same people later asked for his death on the Cross. So it came to pass. And when all was accomplished, the mystery of the Last Supper was revealed: 'This is my body, which is for you . . . This cup is the new covenant in my blood" (1 Cor 11: 24-25). Out of the Upper Room came the Priest "in the manner of Melchizedek". He now walks with his people through history.

5. Such is the content that the Solemnity of Corpus Christi intends to express, and which we wish to proclaim with this Eucharistic procession through the streets of Rome, from the Basilica of the Most Holy Saviour in the Lateran to the Marian Basilica on the Esquiline Hill. "Ave verum Corpus natum de Maria Virgine". May the way we walk become a concrete image of the many other ways of the Church in today's world. The Bishop of Rome, servant of all servants of the Eucharist, follows with thought and heart all those who today bear witness to this Mystery, from north to south, from sunrise to sunset. Everywhere where the People of God of the New Covenant are found, there is also Him, "the living bread, come down from heaven".

Everywhere. "If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever."

[John Paul II, homily 18 June 1992]

This Sunday’s Gospel passage (cf. Jn 6:51-58) introduces us to the second part of the discourse that Jesus delivers in the Synagogue of Capernaum, after having satisfied the hunger of the great multitude with five loaves and two fish: the multiplication of the loaves. He presents himself as “the bread which came down from heaven”, the bread that gives eternal life, and he adds: “the bread which I shall give for the life of the world is my flesh” (v. 51).

This passage is decisive, and in fact it provokes the reaction of those who are listening, who begin to dispute among themselves: “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” (v. 52). When the sign of the shared bread points to its true significance, namely, self-giving to the point of sacrifice, misunderstanding arises; it leads to the actual rejection of the One whom, shortly before, they had wanted to lift up in triumph. Let us remember that Jesus had to hide because they had wanted to make him king.

Jesus continues: “unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you” (v. 53). Here the blood is present together with the flesh. In biblical language, flesh and blood express concrete humanity. The people and the disciples themselves sense that Jesus invites them to enter into communion with him, to ‘eat’ him, his humanity, in order to share with him the gift of life for the world. So much for triumphs and mirages of success! It is precisely the sacrifice of Jesus who gives himself for us.

This bread of life, the sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ, comes to us freely given at the table of the Eucharist. Around the altar we find what spiritually feeds us and quenches our thirst today and for eternity. Each time we participate in the Holy Mass, in a certain sense, we anticipate heaven on earth, because from the Eucharistic sustenance, the Body and Blood of Jesus, we learn what eternal life is. It is living for the Lord: “he who eats me will live because of me” (v. 57), the Lord says. The Eucharist shapes us so that we live not only for ourselves but for the Lord and for our brothers and sisters. Life’s happiness and eternity depend on our ability to render fruitful the evangelical love we receive in the Eucharist.

As in that time, today too Jesus repeats to each of us: “unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you” (v. 53). Brothers and sisters, it is not about material sustenance, but a living and life-giving bread, which conveys the very life of God. When we receive Communion we receive the very life of God. To have this life it is necessary to nourish ourselves of the Gospel and of the love of our brothers and sisters. Before Jesus’ invitation to nourish ourselves of his Body and of his Blood, we might feel the need to dispute and to resist, as did those listeners whom today’s Gospel spoke of. This happens when we struggle to model our existence after that of Jesus, to act according to his criteria and not according to worldly criteria. By nourishing ourselves of this food we can enter into full harmony with Christ, with his sentiments, with his behaviour. This is so important: to go to Mass and partake in Communion, because receiving Communion is receiving this living Christ, who transforms us within and prepares us for heaven.

May the Virgin Mary support our aim to enter into communion with Jesus Christ, by nourishing ourselves of his Eucharist, so as to become in our turn bread broken for our brothers and sisters.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 19 August 2018]

Get closer without being submissive

(Mt 19:13-15)

«I prefer a Church which is bruised, hurting and dirty because it has been out on the streets, rather than a Church which is unhealthy from being confined and from clinging to its own security» [Evangelii Gaudium n.49].

We must not allow ourselves to be dragged along by the obvious dismissive sentences on legal impurity. According to Jesus, a useless, artificial weight; which curtails the wings and renders unhappy.

On the contrary, it’s always appropriate to acquire a different perception of the things of God in woman and man. And there is no need to be well trained in customary practices: young people are not.

What happened in the small churches of Galilee and Syria in the early 80s? Many pagans began to present themselves at the threshold of the  (Judaizing) communities and were becoming a majority.

Members of the chain of command valued the incipients poorly qualified from the point of view of the observance of the "fathers" dispositions .

Some haughty veterans considered the new ones who asked to be welcomed, like servants still murky [«paidìa»: age 9-11 years], contaminated and “mixed”.

At that time, in the conditions in which they lived, the boys certainly did not fulfill the laws of religious purity; but they served others, both at home and at work.

In short, Jesus proposes a paradigm change to the Apostles.

Make peace with the world of judgments.

The proposal seemed absurd to religions (all pyramidal), not for the person of Faith who proceeds on the Way, in the Spirit.

God does not believe at all that his holiness is endangered by contact with the normal realities of this world.

Indeed, the Lord and Master identifies himself precisely with the little boys of shop and house, with the "polluted" beings, socially null and badly valued.

This is to say: the disciple of the Kingdom cannot afford to disavow the needs of others.

Enough with clichés, nomenclatures, double standards and recognized procedures.

What matters is the concrete good of the real person, as her/he is.

The acceptance of little sons - that is, of those who are at the beginning - in their condition of creative and affective integrity, still considered ambiguous and transgressive, is an icon of a social, religious and inverted class logic; radically not homologable.

So woe to those who prevent the insignificants from going to the Lord!

The laying on of hands on them (vv.13.15) is a sign of redemption, enhancement, emancipation and promotion of the condition of the last, excluded, irrelevant, holdless and "mestizo" [not pictures of candor].

Whoever welcomes a privileged man, a legalist, one who has made his way but doesn’t accept changes, hardly welcomes Jesus.

As Pope Francis explicitly recalled: «In the synodal process […] it must not neglect all those “intuitions” found where we would least expect them, “freewheeling”, but no less important for that reason».

Only the unknown and uncertain must be placed at the center of the new Church that we will have to build.

[Saturday 19th wk. in O.T.  August 17, 2024]

Approach without being submissive

(Mt 19:13-15)

Pope Francis has often reiterated: "I would rather have a Church that has crashed than a Church that is sick from closure. Not a 'comfort zone', but a 'field hospital' involved in our hopes, even wounded - not absent, not detached.

In the apostolic exhortation Evangelii Gaudium (49): 'I prefer a Church that is bumpy, wounded and dirty from being out on the streets, rather than a Church that is sick from closure and the comfort of clinging to its own security'.

In short, in the words of the Gospel of Matthew, one must not get carried away by the obvious dismissive judgments about legal impurity. According to Jesus, a useless, artificial burden; one that clips one's wings and makes one unhappy.

On the contrary, it is always good to acquire a different perception of the things of God in man. And it is not necessary to be well trained in customary practices.

What was happening in the small churches of Galilee and Syria in the early 1980s? Many pagans were beginning to show up at the doorsteps of the (Judaizing) communities and were becoming a majority.

The members of the chain of command prevented the distant and incipient from the immediacy of a face-to-face relationship with the Lord - evaluating them as unqualified from the point of view of observing the provisions of the 'fathers'.

Some haughty veterans regarded the newcomers who asked to be received as still turbid servants ["paidìa": age 9-11], defiled and mixed.

At that time, in the conditions in which they lived, young boys certainly did not fulfil the laws of religious purity; but they served others, both at home and at work.

In short, Jesus proposes a paradigm shift to the Apostles.

Stooping? An unbearable model of life for the ambitious veterans who frequently surrounded the Master - but struggled to follow his vital teaching.

The freedom to get off the board - vice versa - was a human figure to be chiselled as the 'model' of the authentic disciple, who reflects Christ and 'conquers' the Kingdom.

Making peace with the world of judgements.

The proposal seemed an absurdity for religions (all pyramidal), not for the person of Faith who proceeds on the Way, in the Spirit.

God does not at all believe that His holiness is endangered by contact with the normal realities of this world.

On the contrary, the Lord and Master identifies Himself precisely with the garzoncini of shop and home, with the 'polluted', socially null and misjudged beings [by any legalistic clique, however devout].

This is to say: the disciple of the Kingdom cannot afford to disregard the life needs of others.

Forget clichés, nomenclature, duplicity and recognised procedures.

What counts is the concrete good of the real person, just as he or she is.

The acceptance of children - i.e. those who are at the beginning - in their condition of creative and affective integrity, still considered ambiguous and transgressive, is an icon of an inverted social, religious and class logic; radically unequal.

So woe to those who prevent the insignificant from going to the Lord!

The laying on of hands on them (vv.13.15) is a sign of redemption, valorisation, emancipation, and promotion of the condition of the last, the excluded, the mocked, the destitute, and the 'mestizos' [not of squares all clarity and whiteness].

Those who welcome a privileged, an observant purist, one who has made his way but does not accept change (a dummy often of good manners and bad habits) hardly welcome Jesus.

In fact, and today's chronicle itself is full of bitter surprises, the directors - so mediocre - who select (v.13) and make adultids are selfish and dangerous big babies, not 'children'.

Only the misunderstood and uncertain are to be placed at the centre of the new Church we are to build.

To internalise and live the message:

Are there any vital aspects of you that you had to tarnish in order to be welcomed into the community?

The Fickleness without Citizenship

In the synodal journey, listening must take into account the sensus fidei, but it must not neglect all those "presentiments" embodied where we would not expect it: there may be a "sniff without citizenship", but it is no less effective. The Holy Spirit in his freedom knows no boundaries, nor does he allow himself to be limited by affiliations. If the parish is the home of everyone in the neighbourhood, not an exclusive club, I recommend: leave doors and windows open, do not limit yourself to considering only those who attend or think like you - that will be 3, 4 or 5%, no more. Allow everyone to come in... Allow yourself to go out and let yourself be questioned, let their questions be your questions, allow yourself to walk together: the Spirit will lead you, trust the Spirit. Do not be afraid to enter into dialogue and allow yourselves to be moved by the dialogue: it is the dialogue of salvation.Do not be disenchanted, be prepared for surprises. There is an episode in the book of Numbers (ch. 22) that tells of a donkey who will become a prophetess of God. The Jews are concluding the long journey that will lead them to the promised land. Their passage frightens King Balak of Moab, who relies on the powers of the magician Balaam to stop the people, hoping to avoid a war. The magician, in his believing way, asks God what to do. God tells him not to humour the king, but he insists, so he relents and mounts a donkey to fulfil the command he has received. But the donkey changes course because it sees an angel with an unsheathed sword standing there to represent God's opposition. Balaam pulls her, beating her, without succeeding in getting her back on the path. Until the donkey starts talking, initiating a dialogue that will open the magician's eyes, transforming his mission of curse and death into a mission of blessing and life.

This story teaches us to trust that the Spirit will always make its voice heard. Even a donkey can become the voice of God, opening our eyes and converting our wrong directions. If a donkey can do it, how much more so can a baptised person, a priest, a bishop, a pope. It is enough to entrust ourselves to the Holy Spirit who uses all creatures to speak to us: he only asks us to clean our ears to hear properly.

(Pope Francis, Speech 18 September 2021)

68. Christ Jesus always manifested his preferential love for the little ones (cf. Mk 10:13-16). The Gospel itself is deeply permeated by the truth about children. What, indeed, is meant by these words: “unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Mt 18:3)? Does not Jesus make the child a model, even for adults? The child has something which must never be lacking in those who would enter the kingdom of heaven. Heaven is promised to all who are simple, like children, to all who, like them, are filled with a spirit of trusting abandonment, pure and rich in goodness. They alone can find in God a Father and become, through Jesus, children of God. Sons and daughters of our parents, God wants us all to become his adopted children by grace!

[Pope Benedict, Africae munus]

Dear Children!

Jesus brings the Truth

The Child whom we see in the manger at Christmas grew up as the years passed. When he was twelve years old, as you know, he went for the first time with Mary and Joseph from Nazareth to Jerusalem for the Feast of the Passover. There, in the crowds of pilgrims, he was separated from his parents and, with other boys and girls of his own age, he stopped to listen to the teachers in the Temple, for a sort of "catechism lesson". The holidays were good opportunities for handing on the faith to children who were about the same age as Jesus. But on this occasion it happened that this extraordinary boy who had come from Nazareth not only asked very intelligent questions but also started to give profound answers to those who were teaching him. The questions and even more the answers astonished the Temple teachers. It was the same amazement which later on would mark Jesus' public preaching. The episode in the Temple of Jerusalem was simply the beginning and a kind of foreshadowing of what would happen some years later.

Dear boys and girls who are the same age as the twelve-year-old Jesus, are you not reminded now of the religion lessons in the parish and at school, lessons which you are invited to take part in? So I would like to ask you some questions: What do you think of your religion lessons? Do you become involved like the twelve-year-old Jesus in the Temple? Do you regularly go to these lessons at school and in the parish? Do your parents help you to do so?

The twelve-year-old Jesus became so interested in the religion lesson in the Temple of Jerusalem that, in a sense, he even forgot about his own parents. Mary and Joseph, having started off on the journey back to Nazareth with other pilgrims, soon realized that Jesus was not with them. They searched hard for him. They went back and only on the third day did they find him in Jerusalem, in the Temple. "Son, why have you treated us so? Behold, your father and I have been looking for you anxiously" (Lk 2:48). How strange is Jesus' answer and how it makes us stop and think! "How is it that you sought me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?" (Lk 2:49). It was an answer difficult to accept. The evangelist Luke simply adds that Mary "kept all these things in her heart" (2:51). In fact, it was an answer which would be understood only later, when Jesus, as a grown-up, began to preach and say that for his Heavenly Father he was ready to face any sufferings and even death on the cross.

From Jerusalem Jesus went back with Mary and Joseph to Nazareth where he was obedient to them (Lk 2:51). Regarding this period, before his public preaching began, the Gospel notes only that he "increased in wisdom and in stature, and in favour with God and man" (Lk 2:52).

Dear children, in the Child whom you look at in the Crib you must try to see also the twelve-year-old boy in the Temple in Jerusalem, talking with the teachers. He is the same grown man who later, at thirty years old, will begin to preach the word of God, will choose the Twelve Apostles, will be followed by crowds thirsting for the truth. At every step he will confirm his extraordinary teaching with signs of divine power: he will give sight to the blind, heal the sick, even raise the dead. And among the dead whom he will bring back to life there will be the twelve-year-old daughter of Jairus, and the son of the widow of Naim, given back alive to his weeping mother.

It is really true: this Child, now just born, once he is grown up, as Teacher of divine Truth, will show an extraordinary love for children. He will say to the Apostles: "Let the children come to me, do not hinder them", and he will add: "for to such belongs the kingdom of God" (Mk 10:14). Another time, as the Apostles are arguing about who is the greatest, he will put a child in front of them and say: "Unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven" (Mt 18:3). On that occasion, he also spoke harsh words of warning: "Whoever causes one of these little ones who believes in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened round his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea" (Mt 18:6).

How important children are in the eyes of Jesus! We could even say that the Gospel is full of the truth about children. The whole of the Gospel could actually be read as the "Gospel of children".

What does it mean that "unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven"? Is not Jesus pointing to children as models even for grown-ups? In children there is something that must never be missing in people who want to enter the kingdom of heaven. People who are destined to go to heaven are simple like children, and like children are full of trust, rich in goodness and pure. Only people of this sort can find in God a Father and, thanks to Jesus, can become in their own turn children of God.

From the Vatican, 13 December 1994.

[Pope John Paul II, Letter to the Children in the Year of the Family] From the Vatican, 13 December 1994.

As you are aware, we are about to begin a synodal process, a journey on which the whole Church will reflect on the theme: Towards a Synodal Church: Communion, Participation, Mission: those three pillars. Three phases are planned, and will take place between October 2021 and October 2023. This process was conceived as an exercise in mutual listening. I want to emphasize this. It is an exercise of mutual listening, conducted at all levels of the Church and involving the entire People of God. The Cardinal Vicar, the auxiliary bishops, priests, religious and laity have to listen to one another, and then to everyone else. Listening, speaking and listening. It is not about garnering opinions, not a survey, but a matter of listening to the Holy Spirit, as we read in the book of Revelation: “Whoever has ears should listen to what the Spirit says to the churches” (2:7). To have ears, to listen, is the first thing we need to do. To hear God’s voice, to sense his presence, to witness his passage and his breath of life.

Thus the prophet Elijah came to realize that God is always a God of surprises, even in the way he passes by and makes himself felt: “A strong and heavy wind was rending the mountains and crushing rocks… but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind, there was an earthquake – but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake, there was fire – but the Lord was not in the fire. After the fire, there was a tiny whispering sound. When he heard this, Elijah hid his face in his cloak” (1 Kg 19:11-13).

That is how God speaks to us. We need to open our ears to hear that tiny whispering sound, the gentle breeze of God, which scholars also translate as “a quiet whisper” or “a small, still voice”.

The first step of the process (October 2021–April 2022) will take place in each diocese. That why I am here, as your bishop, for this moment of sharing, because it is very important that the Diocese of Rome be committed to this process. Wouldn’t it look bad if the Pope’s own diocese was not committed to this? Yes, it would look bad, for the Pope, but also for you!

Synodality is not a chapter in an ecclesiology textbook, much less a fad or a slogan to be bandied about in our meetings. Synodality is an expression of the Church’s nature, her form, style and mission. We can talk about the Church as being “synodal”, without reducing that word to yet another description or definition of the Church. I say this not as a theological opinion or even my own thinking, but based on what can be considered the first and most important “manual” of ecclesiology: the Acts of the Apostles.

The word “synod” says it all: it means “journeying together”. The Book of Acts is the story of a journey that started in Jerusalem, passed through Samaria and Judea, then on to the regions of Syria, Asia Minor, Greece, ending up in Rome. A journey that reveals how God’s word, and the people who heed and put their faith in that word, journey together. The word of God journeys with us. Everyone has a part to play; no one is a mere extra. This is important: everyone has a part to play. The Pope, the Cardinal Vicar and the auxiliary bishops are not more important than the others; no, all of us have a part to play and no one can be considered simply as an extra. At that time, the ministries were clearly seen as forms of service. Authority derived from listening to the voice of God and of the people, inseparably. This kept those who received it humble, serving the lowly with faith and love. Yet that story, that journey, was not merely geographical, it was also marked by a constant inner restlessness. This is essential: if Christians do not feel a deep inner restlessness, then something is missing. That inner restlessness is born of faith; it impels us to consider what it is best to do, what needs to be preserved or changed. History teaches us that it is not good for the Church to stand still (cf. Evangelii Gaudium, 23). Movement is the fruit of docility to the Holy Spirit, who directs this history, in which all have a part to play, in which all are restless, never standing still.

Peter and Paul were not just two individuals with their own personalities. They represent two visions within much broader horizons. They were capable of reassessing things in the light of events, witnesses of an impulse that led them to stop and think – that is another expression we should remember: to stop and think. An impulse that drove them to be daring, to question, to change their minds, to make mistakes and learn from those mistakes, but above all to hope in spite of every difficulty. They were disciples of the Holy Spirit, who showed them the geography of salvation, opening doors and windows, breaking down walls, shattering chains and opening frontiers. This may mean setting out, changing course, leaving behind certain ideas that hold us back and prevent us from setting out and walking together.

We can see the Spirit driving Peter to go to the house of Cornelius, the pagan centurion, despite his qualms. Remember: Peter had had a disturbing vision in which he was told to eat things he considered impure. He was troubled, despite the assurance that what God has made clean should no longer be considered impure. While he was trying to grasp the significance of this vision, some men sent by Cornelius arrived. Cornelius too had received a vision and a message. He was a pious Roman official, sympathetic to Judaism, but not enough to be fully Jewish or Christian; he would not have made it past a religious “customs office”. Cornelius was a pagan, yet he was told that his prayers were heard by God and that he should send and ask Peter to come to his house. At this point, with Peter and his doubts, and Cornelius uncertain and confused, the Spirit overcomes Peter’s resistance and opens a new chapter of missionary history. That is how the Spirit works. In the meeting between those two men, we hear one of the most beautiful phrases of Christianity. Cornelius meets Peter and falls at his feet, but Peter, picking him up, tells him: “Get up. I too am a man” (Acts 10:26). All of us can say the same thing: “I am a man, I am a woman; we are all human”. This is something we should all say, bishops too, all of us: “Get up. I too am a man”.

The text also says that Peter conversed with Cornelius (cf. v. 27). Christianity should always be human and accessible, reconciling differences and distances, turning them into familiarity and proximity. One of the ills of the Church, indeed a perversion, is the clericalism that detaches priests and bishops from people, making them officials, not pastors. Saint Paul VI liked to quote the words of Terence: “I am a man: I regard nothing human as foreign to me”. The encounter between Peter and Cornelius resolved a problem; it helped bring about the decision to preach directly to the pagans, in the conviction that – as Peter put it – “God shows no partiality” (Acts 10:34). There can be no discrimination in the name of God. Discrimination is a sin among us too, whenever we start to say: “We are the pure, we are the elect, we belong to this movement that knows everything, we are...” No! We are the Church, all of us together.

You see, we cannot understand what it means to be “catholic” without thinking of this large, open and welcoming expanse. Being Church is a path to enter into this broad embrace of God. To return to the Acts of the Apostles, we see the emerging problem of how to organize the growing number of Christians, and particularly how to provide for the needs of the poor. Some were saying that their widows were being neglected. The solution was found by assembling the disciples and determining together that seven men would be appointed full time for diakonia, to serve the tables (Acts 6:1-7). In this way, though service, the Church advanced, journeyed together, was “synodal”, accompanied by discernment, amid the felt needs and realities of life and in the power of the Spirit. The Spirit is always the great “protagonist” of the Church’s life.

There was also the clash of differing visions and expectations. We need not be afraid when the same thing happens today. Would that we could argue like that! Arguments are a sign of docility and openness to the Spirit. Serious conflicts can also take place, as was the case with the issue of circumcision for pagan converts, which was settled with the deliberation of the so-called Council of Jerusalem, the first Council. Today too, there can be a rigid way of looking at things, one that restricts God’s makrothymía, his patient, profound, broad and farsighted way of seeing things. God sees into the distance; God is not in a hurry. Rigidity is another perversion, a sin against the patience of God, a sin against God’s sovereignty. Today too.

So it was back then. Some converts from Judaism, in their self-absorption, maintained that there could be no salvation without submission to the Law of Moses. In this way, they opposed Paul, who proclaimed salvation directly in the name of Jesus. This opposition would have compromised the reception of the new pagan converts. Paul and Barnabas were sent to Jerusalem, to the Apostles and the elders. It was not easy: in discussing this problem, the arguments appeared irreconcilable; they debated at length. It was a matter of recognizing God’s freedom of action, that no obstacles could prevent him from touching the hearts of people of any moral or religious background. The situation was resolved when they accepted the evidence that “God, who knows the heart” – as a good “cardiologist” – was on the side of the pagans being admitted to salvation, since he “gave them the Holy Spirit just as he did to us” (Acts 15:8). In this way, respect was shown for the sensibilities of all and excesses were tempered. They learned from Peter’s experience with Cornelius. Indeed, the final “document” presents the Spirit as the protagonist in the process of decision-making and reflects the wisdom that he is always capable of inspiring: “It seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us not to place on you any burden beyond these necessary things” (Acts 15:28).

“… and to us”. In this Synod, we want to get to the point where we can say, “it seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us”, for, guided by the Holy Spirit, you will be in constant dialogue among yourselves, but also in dialogue with the Holy Spirit. Remember those words: “It seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us not to place on you any burden…” “It seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us”. That is how you should try to discuss things at every stage of this synodal process. Without the Holy Spirit, this will be a kind of diocesan parliament, but not a Synod. We are not holding a diocesan parliament, examining this or that question, but making a journey of listening to one another and to the Holy Spirit, discussing yes, but discussing with the Holy Spirit, which is a way of praying.

“To the Holy Spirit and to us”. Still, it is always tempting to do things on our own, in an “ecclesiology of substitution”, which can take many forms. As if, once ascended to heaven, the Lord had left a void needing to be filled, and we ourselves have to fill it. No, the Lord has left us the Spirit! Jesus’ words are very clear: “I will pray to the Father and he will give you another Paraclete, to stay with you forever… I will not leave you orphans” (Jn 14:16.18). In fulfilment of this promise, the Church is a sacrament, as we read in Lumen Gentium, 1: “The Church, in Christ, is like a sacrament – a sign and instrument of communion with God and of the unity of the whole human race”. That sentence, which echoes the testimony of the Council of Jerusalem, contradicts those who would take God’s place, presuming to shape the Church on the basis of their own cultural and historical convictions, forcing it to set up armed borders, toll booths, forms of spirituality that blaspheme the gratuitousness of God’s involvement in our lives. When the Church is a witness, in word and deed, of God’s unconditional love, of his welcoming embrace, she authentically expresses her catholicity. And she is impelled, from within and without, to be present in every time and place. That impulse and ability are the Spirit’s gift: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8). To receive the power of the Holy Spirit to become witnesses: this is our path as Church, and we will be Church if we take this path.

Being a synodal Church means being a Church that is the sacrament of Christ’s promise that the Spirit will always be with us. We show this by growing in our relationship with the Spirit and the world to come. There will always be disagreements, thank God, but solutions have to be sought by listening to God and to the ways he speaks in in our midst. By praying and opening our eyes to everything around us; by practicing a life of fidelity to the Gospel; by seeking answers in God’s revelation through a pilgrim hermeneutic capable of persevering in the journey begun in the Acts of the Apostles. This is important: the way to understand and interpret is through a pilgrim hermeneutic, one that is always journeying. The journey that began after the Council? No. The journey that began with the first Apostles and has continued ever since. Once the Church stops, she is no longer Church, but a lovely pious association, for she keeps the Holy Spirit in a cage. A pilgrim hermeneutic capable of persevering in the journey begun in the Acts of the Apostles. Otherwise, the Holy Spirit would be demeaned. Gustav Mahler – as I have said on other occasions – once stated that fidelity to tradition does not consist in worshiping ashes but in keeping a fire burning. As you begin this synodal journey, I ask you: what are you more inclined to do: guard the ashes of the Church, in other words, your association or group, or keep the fire burning? Are you more inclined to worship what you cherish, and which keep you self-enclosed – “I belong to Peter, I belong to Paul, I belong to this association, you to that one, I am a priest, I am a bishop…” – or do you feel called to keep the fire of the Spirit burning? Mahler was a great composer, but those words showed that he was also a teacher of wisdom. Dei Verbum (no. 8), citing the Letter to the Hebrews, tells us that “God, who spoke in partial and various ways to our fathers (Heb 1:1), uninterruptedly converses with the bride of his beloved Son”. Saint Vincent of Lérins aptly compared human growth to the development of the Church’s Tradition, which is passed on from one generation to the next. He tells us that “the deposit of faith” cannot be preserved without making it advance in such a way as “to be consolidated by years, enlarged by time, refined by age” (Commonitorium primum, 23: ut annis consolidetur, dilatetur tempore, sublimetur aetate). This is how our own journey should be. For reality, including theology, is like water; unless it keeps flowing, it becomes stagnant and putrefies. A stagnant Church starts to decay.

You see, then, how our Tradition is like a mass of leavened dough; we can see it growing and in that growth is communion: journeying together brings about true communion. Here too, the Acts of the Apostles can help us by showing us that communion does not suppress differences. It is the wonder of Pentecost, where different languages are not obstacles; by the working of the Holy Spirit, “each one heard them speaking in his own language” (Acts 2:8). Feeling at home, different but together on the same journey. [Pardon me for speaking so long, but the Synod is a serious matter, and so I have felt free to speak at length...]

To return to the synodal process, the diocesan phase is very important, since it involves listening to all the baptized, the subject of the infallible sensus fidei in credendo. There is a certain resistance to moving beyond the image of a Church rigidly divided into leaders and followers, those who teach and those who are taught; we forget that God likes to overturn things: as Mary said, “he has thrown down the rulers from their thrones but lifted up the lowly” (Lk 1:52). Journeying together tends to be more horizontal than vertical; a synodal Church clears the horizon where Christ, our sun, rises, while erecting monuments to hierarchy covers it. Shepherds walk with their people: we shepherds walk with our people, at times in front, at times in the middle, at times behind. A good shepherd should move that way: in front to lead, in the middle to encourage and preserve the smell of the flock, and behind, since the people too have their own “sense of smell”. They have a nose for finding new paths for the journey, or for finding the road when the way is lost. I want to emphasize this, also for the bishops and priests of the diocese. In this synodal process, they should ask: “Am I capable of walking, of moving, in front, in between and behind, or do I remain seated in my chair, with mitre and crozier?” Shepherds in the midst of the flock, yet remaining shepherds, not the flock. The flock knows we are shepherds, the flock knows the difference. In front to show the way, in the middle to sense how people feel, behind to help the stragglers, letting the people sniff out where the best pastures are found.

The sensus fidei gives everyone a share in the dignity of the prophetic office of Christ (cf. Lumen Gentium, 34-35), so that they can discern the paths of the Gospel in the present time. It is the “sense of smell” proper to the sheep, but let us be careful: in the history of salvation, we are all sheep with regard to the Shepherd who is the Lord. The image (of sheep) helps us understand the two dimensions that contribute to this “sense of smell”. One is individual and the other communitarian: we are sheep, yet we are also members of the flock, which in this case means the Church. These days, in the Office of Readings, we are reading from Augustine’s sermon on pastors, where he tells us, “with you I am a sheep; for you I am a shepherd”. These two aspects, individual and ecclesial, are inseparable: there can be no sensus fidei without sharing in the life of the Church, which is more than mere Catholic activism; it must above all be that “sense” that is nourished by the “mind of Christ” (Phil 2:5).

The exercise of the sensus fidei cannot be reduced to the communication and comparison of our own opinions on this or that issue, or a single aspect of the Church’s teaching or discipline. No, those are instruments, verbalizations, dogmatic or disciplinary statements. The idea of distinguishing between majorities and minorities must not prevail: that is what parliaments do. How many times have those who were “rejected” become “the cornerstone” (cf. Ps 118:22; Mt 21:42), while those who were “far away” have drawn “near” (Eph 2:13). The marginalized, the poor, the hopeless were chosen to be a sacrament of Christ (cf. Mt 25:31-46). The Church is like that. And whenever some groups wanted to stand out more, those groups always ended badly, even denying salvation, in heresies. We can think of the heresies that claimed to lead the Church forward, like Pelagianism, and then Jansenism. Every heresy ended badly. Gnosticism and Pelagianism are constant temptations for the Church. We are so rightly concerned for the dignity of our liturgical celebrations, but we can easily end up simply becoming complacent. Saint John Chrysostom warns us: “Do you want to honour the body of Christ? Do not allow it to be despised in its members, that is, in the poor who lack clothes to cover themselves. Do not honour him here in the church with rich fabrics while outside you neglect him when he is suffering from cold and naked. The one who said, “this is my body”, confirming the fact with his word, also said, “you saw me hungry and you did not feed me” and, “whenever you failed to do these things to one of the least of these, you failed to do it to me” (Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew, 50, 3). You may say to me: “Father, what do you mean? Are the poor, the beggars, young drug addicts, all those people that society discards, part of the Synod too?”

Yes, dear friends. It is not me who is saying this, but the Lord. They too are part of the Church, and you will not properly celebrate the Synod unless you somehow make them part of it (in a way to be determined), or spend time with them, not only listening to what they have to say, but also feeling what they feel, listening to them even if they may insult you. The Synod is for everyone, and it is meant to include everyone. The Synod is also about discussing our problems, the problems I have as your Bishop, the problems that the auxiliary Bishops have, the problems that priests and laity have, the problems that groups and associations have. So many problems! Yet unless we include the “problem people” of society, those left out, we will never be able to deal with our own problems. This is important: that we let our own problems come out in the dialogue, without trying to hide them or justify them. Do not be afraid!

We should feel ourselves part of one great people which has received God’s promises. Those promises speak of a future in which all are invited to partake of the banquet God has prepared for every people (cf. Is 25:6). Here I would note that even the notion “People of God” can be interpreted in a rigid and divisive way, in terms of exclusivity and privilege; that was the case with the notion of divine “election”, which the prophets had to correct, showing how it should rightly be understood. Being God’s people is not a privilege but a gift that we receive, not for ourselves but for everyone. The gift we receive is meant to be given in turn. That is what vocation is: a gift we receive for others, for everyone. A gift that is also a responsibility. The responsibility of witnessing by our deeds, not just our words, to God’s wonderful works, which, once known, help people to acknowledge his existence and to receive his salvation. Election is a gift. The question is this: if I am a Christian, if I believe in Christ, how do I give that gift to others? God’s universal saving will is offered to history, to all humanity, through the incarnation of his Son, so that all men and women can become his children, brothers and sisters among themselves, thanks to the mediation of the Church. That is how universal reconciliation is accomplished between God and humanity, that unity of the whole human family, of which the Church is a sign and instrument (cf. Lumen Gentium, 1). In the period prior to the Second Vatican Council, thanks to the study of the Fathers of the Church, there was a renewed realization that the people of God is directed towards the coming of the Kingdom, towards the unity of the human family created and loved by God. The Church, as we know and experience her in the apostolic succession, should be conscious of her relationship to this universal divine election and carry out her mission in its light. In that same spirit, I wrote my encyclical Fratelli Tutti. As Saint Paul VI said, the Church is a teacher of humanity, and today she aims at becoming a school of fraternity.

Why do I say these things? Because in the synodal process, our listening must take into account the sensus fidei, but it must not neglect all those “intuitions” found where we would least expect them, “freewheeling”, but no less important for that reason. The Holy Spirit in his freedom knows no boundaries or tests of admission. If the parish is to be a home to everyone in the neighbourhood, and not a kind of exclusive club, please, let’s keep the doors and windows open. Don’t limit yourself to those who come to church or think as you do – they may be no more than 3, 4 or 5 percent. Let everyone come in… Go out and meet them, let them question you, let their questions become your questions. Journey together: the Spirit will lead you; trust in the Spirit. Do not be afraid to engage in dialogue and even to be taken aback by what you hear, for this is the dialogue of salvation.

Don’t be disheartened; be prepared for surprises. In the book of Numbers (22:8ff.) we hear of a donkey who became a prophet of God. The Hebrews were about to end the long journey that led them to the promised land. Their passage through his territory frightened Balak, the king of Moab, who told Balaam, a seer, to stop them, in hopes of avoiding a war. Balaam, who was in his own way a believer, asked God what to do. God told him not to go along with the king, but since the king insisted, Balaam set out on a donkey to do as the king said. The donkey, however, turned aside from the road because it saw an angel with an unsheathed sword, representing the opposition of God. Balaam tugged at the reins and beat the donkey, but could not get it to return to the road. Finally, the donkey opened his mouth and spoke, the beginning of a dialogue that would open the seer’s eyes and turn his mission of cursing and death into a mission of blessing and life.

This story teaches us to trust that the Spirit will always make his voice heard. Even a donkey can become the voice of God, can open our eyes and change our course when we go astray. If a donkey can do that, how much more can a baptized person, a priest, a bishop, a Pope do it? We need but rely on the Holy Spirit, who uses all of creation to speak to us: he only asks us to clean out our ears, to hear better.

[Pope Francis, Address to the Diocese of Rome, 18 September 2021]

Legalistic conception and hardness of heart

(Mt 19:3-12)

The controversy with the fanatics of the law highlights the need for a new messianic community, which goes beyond the exclusively legalistic moral conception.

The theme chosen by the Pharisees lent itself to putting Jesus in difficulty regarding the ideal of love.

The marriage law of the time required the wife to become the property of her husband.

So in any case the divorce redounded to the detriment of the woman, always seen as an inferior being.

In the society of the time, male domination and marginalization of the weak were established situations.

To protect the freedom of women [Dt 24:1-4], the law required that the tired husband (even for a nonsense or whim) still wrote a divorce "letter" that sanctioned her free.

Unlike Roman society, the wife didn’t have the same right: a social plague, which obscured her dignity. In practice she was like an object and a slave even in her own home.

But in creating the human being, this was not the intent of the Creator. Thus Jesus takes away the privileges - even domestic ones - asking for maximum equality of rights and duties.

He knew that the apostles themselves preferred not to marry than to renounce the exclusivity of command [v.10: «If the situation of a man with a woman is like this, it’s not worth getting married»].

The Master does not allow the dominion of the strong over the weak, therefore the man must lose hegemony over the woman. The new law is love, and love doesn’t allow possessions, emotional exploitation, fixed chains of command.

Both marriage and celibacy are choices that recognize the value of the Person. Awe-inspiring options for God's Kingdom - not in the service of any compromise, supremacy, or other pretentious interests.

The divine plan for humanity is transparent, broad and generous. The marriage union itself is called to express the goal of a fullness.

The stronger does not buy the weaker in ownership, but both enrich each other - with loyalty and even in differences, seen as advanced points of a proposal for growth and expansion.

Christ demands a new approach to ethics. This goes beyond the regulations, which they try to adapt to the order.

Therefore, the Lord's teaching here appeals to the divine creative Act which has engraved a capacity for gift and growth in person's nature - and it can’t be regulated by contract clauses, nor subjected to conditioning and subjection.

The step of the Faith builds people and communities, completing them (without too many accelerations, or forced restrictions). For a Love that originates us without rest.

The Family thus becomes a ‘small domestic Church’ because it’s both autonomous and comprehensive; no more nomenclatures, compromises, masks, gags or straitjackets.

Then the complementarity experienced in an authentic way - without exteriority - can go beyond the case studies of the legal systems.

In this way it has good personal and social outcomes, evoking the very Presence of God in the world.

[Friday 19th wk. in O.T.  August 16, 2024]